The Last Donut
by Breathe From Your Hoo Hoo
Summary: A desperate rock star, a cheeky filmmaker, and a good helping of slash. I honestly hope you like it......


There was Roger, sitting in his usual spot next to the window and tinkering around with his guitar as he watched the people on the street going about their daily lives. His eyes travelled the across the various people; an oldish man standing near the bus stop with a coffee cup in his one hand and a shoulder bag on another. A woman reading a newspaper while she sat to rest herself on a wooden bench, with a little girl next to her who looked about 7 or 8 who was enjoying some ice-cream, oblivious to the little pink and yellow rivulets making their way down the wafer cone, past her hand andcreating a puddle on the ground. Roger chuckled softly as he observed the child's innocence, his eyes following her ice-cream cone.

Ice cream. He couldn't remember the last time he ever had some. Probably at the time he went to the beach on a family holiday at the age of 10, when he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his face as he walked away from the refreshment's stand, having enjoyed only a few strawberry ice cream licks before it ended up on the ground with a seaweed-and-sand topping on it. Roger chuckled again at this memory and then all of a sudden developed a sudden sugar craving. He propped his guitar carefully against the wall and went the scour the kitchen for anything sweet, even though he didn't think he would actually find anything. He could hear some feet shuffling in the bathroom – Mark's obviously – as he flung open all the kitchen cabinets to reveal nothing but a few cans of baked beans and an old pack of biscuits with a nice thick cobweb over it. Cringing, Roger opened the fridge and to his delight, found a plastic takeaway dish with one cinnamon donut sitting in it. _"Good ol' Collins",_ he thought to himself, remembering the generous purchases his African-American friend made for them from the grocery shop last week. With eyes gleaming like a 9-year-old on Christmas morning, he took his sugary prize out of the fridge and set it in the kitchen top and proceeded to close the fridge door when he accidentally knocked over a stone-hard bread roll that had been lying inside for God knows how long. After disposing the roll in the bin, Roger turned back to kitchen top to find the takeaway dish still waiting for him but with no donut in it.

"What is this, the fucking Twilight Zone?" muttered our sugar-crazed rocker as he panicked and scanned the entire loft, wondering how in the hell a donut could have just vanished in the space of 5 seconds, when he felt a tap on the back of his arm. He spun around quickly and came face to face with a very naughty-eyed filmmaker who had a very familiar cinnamon donut clenched between his teeth.

Roger placed himself directly in front of this filmmaker. "Marky?" he began in a menacing, singsong voice.

"Yes, Roggy?" came the slightly muffled reply in the same cheeky singsong tone, causing Roger to cringe at the use of 'that' nickname.

"May I have my donut back please?"

Mark dangled the donut by the hole with his fingers while pretending to think hard, as though he were mentally solving a physics equation. "Well lemme think about that, eerrrmmmmm……….No", was the reply as he took a small bite out of said donut, just to prove his point.

Roger clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting to keep his breathing normal and tried again, "Marky, my dearest, sweetest little pet, hand over that donut right now and I solemnly swear **not** to kill you".

Mark only giggled. "Make me", he dared as he stuck the sugary treat back between his teeth and began to skip off to his room. But he only managed three steps before Roger grabbed this cute Jewish boy by the wrist and slammed him against the wall, then pinned both skinny arms against that wall with his own iron ones. Both boys stared at each other with eyes dark and full of desire as Roger pressed his hardened groin against the blonds', causing both men to moan loudly. Roger slowly ate the donut while it was still clenched between his lover's teeth, nibbling and chewing gently, and then kissed Mark hotly as the two of them finished the last piece between them, tasting sugar and cinnamon on each other's tongues. After another minute, our Boho boys broke away to catch their breaths and swallow the last remnants of donut in their mouths.

Mark seductively raised en eyebrow. "Well Mr Davis, you finally got your sugary treat. Happy now?" asked he while licking the cinnamon off his lips.

Roger grinned dirtily as he slipped his left hand into Mark's pants, which made the skinny blond gasp loudly. "Oh no. No, no, no. It's not the sugar I'm craving for anymore……".

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, our Boho boys were still stuck to the wall, without their pants, which were now lying on the floor. Roger had wrapped Mark's arms around his shoulders and had used his own arms to place under Mark's thighs to hold him up against said wallas he thrust himself deep into his Jewish lover's body, earning a loud ecstatic moan in response. Grinning, the rocker pushed deeper and harder into him, both of them moaning loudly and whimpering each other's names as their bodies moved in rhythm together. It didn't take long until Roger exploded into the latex sheath screaming Mark's name, while Mark released his essence onto his lover's legs and the floor, which neither of them seemed to mind. Covered with sweat and totally spent, the Jew and the rock star collapsed into one another's arms as they allowed their bodies to just slide down to the floor. Both boys took a few minutes to regain their breaths, and then Roger laid himself flat on the floor, followed by Mark who did the same but on Roger's strong chest instead, as he lightly ran a thumb over his baby's chin stubble and regarded him with a silly high-school-girl-after-a-first-date smile.

"So, Rog", asked Mark, breaking the silence. "Was your donut sweet enough for you?"

Roger smiled back, ran a hand through the spiky blond hair in front of him and purred softly, "Yes indeed, but not nearly as sweet as yourself, my dear Mr Cohen."

Mark smiled and blushed happily as he rewarded his lover with a kiss. "I love you, Rogster", he whispered.

Roger willingly returned the smile and kiss and whispered back.

"I love you too, my sweet Marky-pie".

-The end-

* * *

And that's my first attempt at some actual slash action. Man, I am on a _roll_ here!


End file.
